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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25480786">The Tutor</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monna99/pseuds/Monna99'>Monna99</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Band of Brothers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>1800s, Alternate Universe, Henry Speirs, M/M, Thomas Speirs, carriages, daddy Speirs, hints of Richard Winters/Lewis Nixon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 12:48:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,772</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25480786</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monna99/pseuds/Monna99</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The note his neighbor Mrs. Rosen delivered to him on his return home was a balm, an application of laudanum on his much strained nerves. It gave him hope, though he could immediately see that there was no assurance of employment in it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Carwood Lipton/Ronald Speirs</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Regency-ish era AU.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The note his neighbor Mrs. Rosen delivered to him on his return home was a balm, an application of laudanum on his much strained nerves. It gave him hope, though he could immediately see that there was no assurance of employment in it. The phrasing was clear and no-nonsense. The man was satisfied with his references; however, he solicited to meet in person within a fortnight to take his own measure. The address was enclosed. Nothing else. Carwood studied the bold slash of a signature at the bottom. It was a bit worrying, but he could only have faith that including such highly regarded references would surmount his lack of experience. He prayed it would be enough.</p><p>Packing was a swift affair. He had but little and the one bedroom house had already been sold. What few items of worth his mother had possessed were already gone to the auction block to settle his deceased father’s debts. All that remained were his family’s bible and his mother’s golden crucifix that she had gifted him before passing. It was a comforting weight around his neck.</p><p>There was a short knock on the Millwork frame of the open door. “Carwood.”</p><p>He turned and offered his friend a small smile. “Lewis. I am glad you’re here.”</p><p>Lewis Nixon, Nix to most of his friends, waved away his words and stepped inside. He dropped onto a kitchen chair and lit a cigar, planting his expensive muddied boots atop the dinner table. “All packed up, I see,” he observed idly from around his cigar. </p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“And when will the swine who stole your home come to take possession?”</p><p>Carwood gave him a look of mild reproach. He appreciated Lewis’s loyalty, but there was no point becoming angry about it now. He preferred to look forward to the future instead. He wished to live humbly, in some semblance of peace for the remainder of his days. That would be sufficient. “Tomorrow, which is precisely why I must leave tonight.”</p><p>“Hmm.” Nix twirled the cigar between long, dexterous fingers. “Then we shall go to my estate. You will be a welcome relief to my boredom until you abandon me for your new employer.” His tone was light, but Carwood knew Lew was upset. He’d taken it as a blow that Carwood had refused to accept a charity post at the Nixon estate. Lewis had been kind to offer it, but Carwood had been the object of far too much pity already. He could not stomach more. </p><p>“Yes, well, on that note,” he indicated the card on the table.</p><p>Nix let his feet drop and picked it up, glancing it over quickly before giving a rather disgusted snort. “Mannerless clod. There ought be no need for an interview. You have my recommendation, what else should he require?”</p><p>Carwood snapped shut the latches on his small trunk and set a smaller sack of toiletry items atop. “Ah, yes, the world should revolve around the word of one Lewis Nixon, naturally,” he teased.</p><p>Nix rolled his eyes, puffing away at his cigar once more. “He is giving you no opportunity to settle matters here. It will take you a little less than fortnight to reach the estate if you leave now.”</p><p>Yes, that was rather unfortunate. Not the settling matters, he had nothing to which to attend on that score, but he would need to make transit arrangements in a hurry. “Thus, my packing,” he agreed.  Arriving within a fortnight would not be easy to achieve but it was feasible, though it would deplete his remaining funds. “I’m happy that you dropped in,” he added, “I would have hated leaving without a farewell.”</p><p>The chair clattered as Nix stood, indignant. “And rightfully so! How could you think of going without calling on me? No,” he continued, as Carwood opened his mouth, “there is simply no way I can permit your leaving in such an unrefined manner.”</p><p>“Lewis,” he began warningly.</p><p>Nix shook his head, stubborn as ever. “I will drive us. We’ll take my curricle and I will drop you at the estate. I want no arguments on the matter, Carwood,” he overrode briskly. He grabbed up the sack of toiletries and the trunk and walked outside with them, calling to his man in the coach to get them loaded. </p><p>Carwood sighed but did not argue. Lewis was rather relentless when his mind was made up and Carwood would miss his friend, so why not take him up on his offer. It would be pleasant to spend the drive with him. He looked around one last time, trying to capture the love of his home once more, but the unusual stillness and the strange emptiness of the place made it alien. The white valence over the kitchen window blew open with the cool breeze and admitted the scent of jasmines from the garden. It was a humble home, but it had been a happy one. Seeing it now, stripped of his mother’s loving touches and warmth made him ache. He collected his jacket and closed the front door behind himself. </p><p>Luz made conversation as he drove them to Lewis’s mansion, his words blown aside as the wind whipped around them in the open coach. It was a refreshing drive and it served to momentarily push the weight of the change that was hanging over him out of his head. He focused on the words that flowed in an endless river from Luz’s mouth, only half hearing his outrageous claim about imitating the voice of a high ranking officer to secure himself a pass. Mostly, he was taken with watching the people and the city go by. It was unlikely he would see it again anytime soon, if ever. </p><p>“He still drives like a madman,” Carwood yelled at Nixon who was grinning widely beside him. </p><p>“It’s why I hired him,” he laughed. Not quite true. Nix hadn’t served in the war -- his parents had made sure no recruiting office would take him -- so after making a very good attempt at drinking himself to an early grave, he’d determined to help those returning from the front lines. He’d offered jobs, funds, housing, whatever he could to the men returning wounded and near broken. Not unlike Carwood.</p><p> </p><p>The two-hour commute to Lewis’s home felt much reduced in the mental flurry that were his thoughts. Much too soon, the coach turned onto a long cobblestoned path that was in reality the Nixons’ driveway. It was impossible to know that, however, as the property sat in the middle of their three-hundred acre forest. It took another forty-five minutes before the house even came into view and only because the trees fell away as they crested a short hill, revealing the mansion in the valley below.</p><p>He glanced at Nix but the other man’s eyes were closed, unaffected by the stunning beauty all around him. Carwood couldn’t imagine it, couldn’t believe some people could ever grow immune to such an exquisite sight.</p><p>“Takes your breath away, don’t it?” Luz commented, spurring the horses to greater speed as Carwood nodded, speechless.</p><p>Lewis’s newest veteran hire greeted them as they turned into the circular courtyard. He gave Carwood a sunny, cocky grin as he removed his hat and opened the coach door. “Welcome home, Mr. Nixon,” he hailed, though Nix only yawned, still half-asleep. “Mr. Lipton, sir, it’s good to see you.”</p><p>“Babe.” Carwood scrambled out of the coach, wincing a bit as his leg came down harder on the walkway than he had intended. He straightened to shake the young man’s hand. “It’s good to see you as well. How have you been keeping?”</p><p>“Can’t complain, sir,” the boy returned cheerfully, his copper curls blazing a fiery red in the light of the setting sun. He set his cap back on and plucked Carwood’s trunk from the coach.</p><p>“I can--”</p><p>“No, you can’t,” Nix interrupted, groaning as he stretched and stepped out of the coach. He ushered Carwood up the stairs of his ridiculous mansion and into the equally ridiculous grand entrance. “I am famished, and you must be as well. Let’s see if Renee can fix us something.” He ignored all protest from Carwood and did not pause as he called back, “Heffron, prepare one of the guest rooms in the west wing for Carwood, and make sure to pack my trunks for tomorrow. I’ll be away for several days.”</p><p>Babe’s words were drowned as the door to the den opened and an apparition from Carwood’s past stepped out, nearly shocking him into a misstep, making him stumble as the ache in his leg flared up. “Sergeant Lipton,” she greeted calmly, a bit surprised, but nothing at all as though the world had shifted under her feet as it had for him. “It is Lipton, correct? It is a pleasure to meet you again.”</p><p>And under considerably different circumstances. It was jarring, seeing her out of a nurse’s garb with no blood or moaning men in sight. “Ms. Chiwy,” he returned, after a too-long pause, his throat closing on her name. He stepped forward, helpless, grateful, and she met him halfway, taking his hands as he reached out. “I never imagined I would see you again.”</p><p>“No, nor I. I’d intended to travel to Norway if I survived the war, but I found I could not leave these boys behind.”</p><p>Carwood squeezed her hands. “I am selfishly glad for that. It allows me to finally express my profound gratitude to you. Thank you for saving my life. You were my guardian angel.” Carwood had nearly forgotten about Lewis, but his friend made a surprised noise at that. </p><p>“Augusta saved your life?” He glanced at the woman, surprised. “I thought it was Talbert who’d done that.”</p><p>Carwood finally released Ms. Chiwy’s hands, realizing he was squeezing much too hard. “It was a combined effort. I would have bled out in that makeshift aid station if it weren’t for her.” He turned to his friend. “And how is it you two know one another?”</p><p>“As it happens, I hired Augusta to run my organization, Veteran Valor,” he revealed. “I met her through Roe.”</p><p>“Renee is here as well,” Ms. Chiwy added. “Do you remember her?”</p><p>Carwood’s half-grin was partly rueful and partly self-deprecating. “I must admit, I don’t remember much of anything during that time. I was one of the fortunate few who was administered morphine.”</p><p>Augusta’s eyes flitted momentarily down to his leg, no doubt surprised he could stand, much less walk. The doctors had attempted to temper his expectations. They’d assured him he would be invalid the remainder of his life, but Carwood had been as intractable as a nun on her vespers. It had taken many, many months of pain and furious tenacity to reach recovery, but recover he had.</p><p>“Well, why don’t you two catch up while we sup? I don’t suppose Renee made something?” Lewis asked, eyes beseeching. </p><p>Augusta sniffed at his antics. “That girl indulges you far too much,” she returned severely, though there was a fond curl to her lips and Nix grinned triumphantly. </p><p>The gallery smelled heavenly and Renee kindly set plates for them all in the kitchen at the servant’s table. Nobody bothered to comment on it. The estate had slowly been emptying for years, falling into a state of disrepair so there was no one present besides themselves, and Babe and Luz who joined them. Together, they supped on roast chicken washed down with lemonade or, in Lewis’s case, a tankard of ale.</p><p>“Have you thought of re-hiring a full staff, Nix?” he asked during a lull in the conversation. “At least a housekeeper and a cook,” Carwood suggested, nearly imploring as he took note of the unfortunate smell in the place. “For the sake of decency and these ladies who endure it, Lewis, hire someone to clean. Ms. Lemaire may occasionally cook for you, but it’s only because you might well starve if she did not. You mustn't take advantage.”</p><p>Babe and Luz chimed in, agreeing that help around the place would be welcome. The young men were probably a little lonesome given the isolation of the mansion and Lewis’s regular absences. </p><p>Nix made a show of rolling his eyes as he bit into the succulent roast, but he sighed and yielded, agreeing to begin the search.  </p><p>Silly though it was, Carwood was relieved. He worried for Nix with his self-destructive tendencies. It would be a comfort to know the place wouldn’t spiral into a sty and send his friend into another bout of melancholy. Renee smiled at him, bright and lovely, gaze understanding. “I am sure more company would not go amiss, but I do not mind cooking,” she assured them. “I feel blessed to use my hands for something as wonderful as feeding friends.”</p><p>They toasted to that and finished their dinner. Renee and Augusta took their leave shortly after, bidding everyone goodbye as they bundled themselves up. He and Lewis saw them to the door and got them loaded into the coach, charging Luz to get them home safely. </p><p>Upon his return, Lewis prevailed upon them to play cards for a few hours. They sat in the drawing room, smoking and drinking and the boys opened up a bit about the war, though Carwood abstained from both. He didn’t like to put himself back there. The nightmares were always worse whenever he did. </p><p>“So what’s this job you got yourself, Lip?” Luz asked as he shuffled. </p><p>Nix refilled his and Babe's cups. </p><p>Carwood ran his thumb over the ridge of his water glass, staring somewhat vacantly at the fire. “I have an interview, not a job. A friend of Lewis’s, a Mr. Ronald Speirs, requires a tutor for his children.”</p><p>Babe choked and started coughing, nearly hacking up a lung. Luz’s mouth dropped open. “You’re-- he-- S-spe--?”</p><p>“Whoa, don’t asphyxiate there, bud,” Nix laughed, wailing on the redhead’s back. </p><p>“He’s fucking crazy!” Babe burst out. “He’s terrifying.”</p><p>“Oh, so you do know him,” Nix jested. </p><p>Carwood did not find it quite so humorous. “Something you want to tell me, Lewis?” he asked, troubled. He needed the employment, he had no other options. What could he do if this Speirs turned out to be a complete scoundrel? He had no prospects of any kind. No one wanted to hire a cripple. Even a mostly recovered one. “Lewis?” he prompted.</p><p>Nix must have heard the concern because he sobered and the boys settled. “I would never have suggested it if I didn’t think he’d be good to you, Car,” he assured earnestly. “Ron’s perhaps a little too blunt, but he’s solid. He works hard and he values hard work in others.”</p><p>Luz cleared his throat sheepishly. “He’s right, Lip. You just surprised us is all. It’s not a name I expected to hear again to be honest.”</p><p>And hearing it sent him into convulsions? “You must have served together,” he guessed. It was highly unlikely that both Babe and George had previously worked for the man when they were from opposite sides of the country.</p><p>“Yeah,” Babe confirmed. “He was one of the best officers we had, just a little scary, ya know? He could be pretty unpredictable, but now that I think on it, you should be fine. He always had a soft spot for the good ones.”</p><p>Carwood did not quite know what to make of any of it. He couldn’t help mulling it over in his mind as he lay in bed, staring up at the opulent canopy above. Despite their backtracking, the boys had not painted a pleasant picture of Speirs and that was worrisome. Perhaps Carwood might deal more with the missus. There was nothing for it now, he would ride out with Lewis tomorrow and pray for the best.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Eleven days after setting off from the Nixon estate, they pulled into the courtyard of Grimwood Manor. If ever there were a more aptly named locale Carwood could not think of it. In the gloomy afternoon mist, the woods surrounding the manor were painted a somber black and drab, ash gray. There was not a leaf to be found and the grounds were one part rough-hewn stone and two parts packed dirt. There was nothing welcoming or loving in the place and Carwood felt his heart sink. He was to spend the next few years in this cheerless place? He could think of few things he wanted less. </p><p>Nixon spared him a glance at his dismayed silence and cleared his throat. “Remember, you are always welcome as my valet.”</p><p>Carwood gave Lewis a small, grateful smile but shook his head. He did not know the first thing about being a valet and Nixon had no need of one. Not really. He was much too independent and uncaring of social norms or niceties. Eccentric was what he was called. He was lucky, his wealth shielded him from any real abuse or consequences for his oddness. </p><p>He watched as the home loomed nearer, its severe dark-washed sandstone facade set against white granite. A handful of lambent lanterns valiantly attempted to illuminate that stark face in the dense fog. The bleating of the occasional lamb and the cluck of chickens sounded in the distance.</p><p>In the courtyard, they spotted a tall man sitting on the ledge of a partially crumpled low stone wall. The cap he wore threw his face into shadow as he leaned forward, making notes in a small logbook. He stood at their approach, setting aside his writing and raising his hand in welcome. Nixon tossed the man the reins before Carwood could stop him and leaped nimbly from the carriage. “Is your master home?”</p><p>There was a significant pause and Carwood winced, understanding then, as Lewis clearly did not, that this man was no groomsman. He could write, for one. “Captain Speirs is home, yes,” the man answered evenly, patting the horses and murmuring to them soothingly. He was self-possessed and did not kowtow to Nixon nor did he offer to announce them. Lewis turned to him and raised an eyebrow. The stranger’s expression took on a look of polite inquiry, the effect of which was somewhat spoiled by the hard, irritated line of his mouth. And that was when that sharp profile was turned to face Carwood fully. </p><p>“Major Winters?” he called in disbelief, alighting from the coach. “Sir, is that really you?”</p><p>Just then the front door of the manor opened and a handsome, dark-haired man stepped out. “Winters, goddammit, I’ve told you for the last time that I won’t have those worthless freeloaders leeching off me--” He cut himself off as he caught sight of the coach -- as he caught sight of Nix, to be specific. “Why are you darkening my door, Nixon? Don’t you have more people to exploit in order to grow your ill-gotten inheritance?”</p><p>Nix rolled his eyes. “As opposed to you who spends his time terrorizing people in your employ because you’re nouveau riche?”</p><p>“Bastard.”</p><p>“Ass.”</p><p>As Dick and Carwood observed in equal disbelief, Nixon burst out laughing and Speirs smirked. </p><p><em>Good Lord</em>. Carwood wondered a bit dazzedly what in the world had he gotten himself into. The man -- who must be the man of the house given how he spoke to Lewis -- turned to Carwood, gaze thawing a bit as he eyed him from the tips of his boots to his hatless head. “You must be Mr. Clifford Lipton.” He stepped forward and extended an ungloved hand. </p><p>Carwood reached out and his cold fingers slid against Speirs’s warm palm. “It’s Carwood Lipton, Mr. Speirs, and it’s good to make your acquaintance.” The feel of the man’s roughened fingertips surprised him. Here was no dandy who spent all his days on ornamental diversions. No offense to Lewis. Those hazel eyes arrested him, the intensity of them not easy to look away from. It was then he realized the man had yet to release his hand, he also realized Nixon was getting himself into hot water so he shifted away and pulled his hand back. “Major Winters, it’s very good to see you again, sir. This is Lewis Nixon. Nix, this is Major Richard Winters.”</p><p>The two men eyed each other, Lewis looking worryingly absorbed, and shook hands. Speirs moved forward and stood next to Carwood, shoulders brushing. “I’m glad you came, Nixon. I was going to write you, but this works better. Winters is the answer to a good number of your problems.”</p><p>Nix never took his eyes off Dick. “Problems?”</p><p>“He apprenticed under Meehan. He’s an accountant and you’ll find no more honest man than him. It’s fortunate for you given your tendency to misplace funds. You will hire him as your new clerk.”</p><p>Carwood turned to stare at Speirs, disbelieving, though not so much as when Lewis nodded without a word of contest. </p><p>“Mr. Lipton.” Lip straightened his shoulders, trying hard not to seem too nervous. “Come with me.” Speirs turned on his heel and marched up the stone steps of the manor without another word. At the door, he yelled for someone named Liebgott and a lanky young man emerged from the side of the house and took control of the horses. “He’ll bring in your luggage,” Speirs informed him, disappearing inside. </p><p>Lip followed, though Nix and Major Winters both lagged behind. They had a great deal to discuss. Carwood was happy for Dick, he was a great man and Carwood well understood how difficult the readjustment to civilian life could be. And Lewis was generous with his employees, they would be good for one another. “It was kind of you to find Major Winters employment, sir,” he murmured, stepping inside. The interior was a great improvement to the exterior. The doors opened to a cavernous foyer with vaulted ceiling and a grand marble staircase that divided the home into an east and west wing. It would have felt terribly cold and impersonal if not for the beautiful red mahogany wainscoting that bathed the room in warmth and elegance. Carwood’s breath stopped for a moment as the took in the sight. It was stunning. Truly stunning and the part of him that was fascinated with buildings and structures could have happily spent the next few hours simply taking in the fine details of every arch.</p><p>“Winters didn’t need my help, Nixon did," Speirs said, recalling Carwood back to himself. "His previous accountant embezzled a significant amount of his funds.” He opened a door to the right of the staircase revealing a small den. “Now, shall we discuss the terms of your employment?”</p>
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